Self-conscious now, she asked, "Then why do you think I should have changed them?"

"Changed what?"

She stamped her foot. "The color of my eyes. Are you sure your medical license is legit?"

He stood, the swing swaying drunkenly behind him. "You changed everything else that didn't need changing, and it just surprised me that you didn't change your eye color, too."

His words caught her by surprise. Her voice softened a degree. "They're the same color as my mother's, and I thought hers were beautiful."

"So are yours."

Blood rushed to her cheeks, and she was glad for the cover of darkness. Then sane realization hit her. This man was trying to ruin her life. "Don't try to sweet-talk me. I'm furious with you. And if you don't stop this right now, you'll be hearing from my lawyer."

Cassie stood, trying not to notice how the moonlight outlined the hard planes of his chest and lit his eyes with a glowing fire. She focused on a spot above his head. "Please send my apologies to your mother-tell her I couldn't stay. It was a wonderful dinner." Cassie walked purposefully toward the pink car, now resembling a brilliant marshmallow in the moon glow.

"And yes, it's legit," he called after her.

Facing him again, she put her hands on her hips. "What is?"

"My degree. When you come to visit, I'll show it to you. It's hanging on the wall in my living room."

"Don't hold your breath, Sam. On second thought, please do. That'll be one less irritation in my life I'll need to deal with."

She opened the car door.

"Cassie?"

"What?"

"Moonlight becomes you."

She slammed the door shut and started the engine, feeling blood again rush to her cheeks. She caught sight of herself in the rearview mirror and paused with her hand on the steering wheel. Her skin appeared pale and smooth, unmarred by freckles, like a lake in early morning, before the first fishing line is lowered. Her eyes smol-dered, and her hand touched her cheek. It had been so long since someone had said something so . . . so frivolous to her. It made her feel . . . like a woman. Not a businesswoman but a woman. Feminine. She put the car in reverse and looked at herself again and saw her mother's eyes, but the look in them was harder, more wary.

Pulling the car out onto the street, Cassie put it into drive and drove home slowly, one hand turning the steering wheel, the other trailing outside the window. Her pale fingers opened wide as if to capture some of the milky night air and some of the wistfulness that seemed to stir up from the dark road and push at her temples.

Eleven.

Cassie stood behind the counter at Harriet's Skirts 'n Such and cringed. The Sedgewick twins, with bright peacock feathers perched on identical straw hats, were approaching the shop.

It was only ten o'clock in the morning, but already her day was turning from bad to worse. It had started with a wake-up phone call from Andrew at five o'clock. It hadn't gone well. He had asked, no, demanded to know, when she was coming home. Things were apparently getting out of control at the office, and he needed her there now. Not next week but now. Today. Jump in the car and leave-it was as simple as that.

Cassie had even been about to agree until she realized he'd said nothing about missing her-her body, her self, her. Not her negotiating skills or her ability to handle crises in the office but her. Then she thought of baby Amanda and the way she smelled when she fell asleep on her shoulder. And Joey, Knoxie, and Sarah Frances, with their playful antics. And especially Madison, who reminded Cassie so much of herself that it almost frightened her. She wanted to get to know them a bit better. They were her family, after all. She deliberately left out Sam Parker from the equation, not knowing if he'd weigh in on the side of wanting to stay or needing to go.

"No, Andrew. I can't come now. I've got responsibilities here, too. You can't just tell me what to do."

"The hell I can't. I am your boss."

That had clinched it. Not I am your fiance and I love you and miss you, but I'm your boss.

"As a matter of fact, Andrew, I think I need to ask for a formal leave of absence. I'll still be available to handle client problems long distance and answer questions if you need me. But I'm sure Cynthia Moore would be more than happy to take my place in my absence. She's really good at brown-nosing." Cassie cringed, hating even the sound of that word. "I won't be gone much longer-maybe a month or so-but you're going to need somebody there to fill in."

She had no idea where this was all coming from; these things just seemed to jump to the tip of her tongue without being summoned. But it somehow felt right. Even the thought of that back-stabbing, ladder-climbing Cynthia Moore sitting at Cassie's desk didn't bother her as much as it probably should have.

There was complete silence at the other end of the line. Then: "What about my car? How am I supposed to get that back?"

Cassie had simply replaced the phone on the receiver without answering.

Now, here she was, fulfilling her promise to help out until Harriet felt better, and she was about to be scolded by two old biddies. Like any errant child, she ducked behind the counter, hunched into a tight ball, and listened to the bells above the door chime as the twins entered the store.

Aunt Lucinda, who worked at the boutique three days a week, stepped out of the stockroom and stopped as she spied Cassie cowering beside the shoulder pads and pantyhose boxes. Cassie held her finger to her mouth.

"Did you drop something, dear?"

Startled, Cassie jerked her head around to stare at the sweet face of Thelma Sedgewick, the peacock feather bobbing up and down as if nodding a greeting.

"Um, yeah. Got it." Cassie grabbed a handful of shoulder pads and stood, knocking over a stack of hangers. She gave the twins a big smile. "What a pleasure to see you two again. How can I help you?"

The two sisters glanced at each other, then back at Cassie. "We've come to apologize. Harriet told us you were here, and we just couldn't start our day without clearing the air, so to speak."

Cassie blinked. "Apologize? To me? But I think I'm the one . . ."

Selma waved her hand. "No, dear. The misunderstanding was all our fault. We simply neglected to recall where you've been living these last fifteen years." She placed a gloved hand on her chest and rolled her eyes heavenward. "Anybody who has lived in New York City was bound to pick up bad habits-through no fault of your own, of course." She patted Cassie's arm. "We're quite sure that your good breeding and upbringing will soon blossom again."

Speechless, Cassie merely blinked her eyes as Selma plopped a plastic lawn bag on the counter. It reeked of moist earth and hot plastic. "So we're asking your forgiveness and bringing this as a token of our sincerity."

Cassie stared at the bag and moved the top back to see better. There, nestled in a ball of dirt, was a plant.

"What is it?"

Two pairs of identical eyes stared back at Cassie, as if amazed she couldn't identify the species of whatever it was that sat on the counter.

"It's a gardenia clipping from our garden. Our great-grandmother planted the first one, and we've been giving clippings ever since we can remember. I would say that most of the gardenias in the county are related to ours."

Cassie lifted the bag gingerly. "What, um, what do I do with it?"

Again, incredulous eyes stared at her. "Why, you plant it, you goose. Here, anyway. Don't think you could take it to New York. That's too far from its natural habitat. It would just shrink up and wither, I'm afraid."

She clucked her tongue as if talking about a distant relative. She reached two gnarled hands up to the bag and knotted it closed. Sliding it over to Cassie, she said, "Just take this home and plant it. If you need help or advice, you know where to find us."

The bell over the door chimed again, and Mary Jane Harden stepped inside. Lucinda was the first to greet her.

"Mary Jane-what a pleasure. What can I help you with this morning?"

Mary Jane looked around the room, taking in the Sedgewick twins, her gaze coming back to rest on Cassie. She sent a tentative smile and a quick greeting.

Mary Jane turned her attention back to Lucinda. "I was looking for something, uh, well, special. Maybe something eye-catching?"

Lucinda pursed her lips. "Eye-catching? That would depend on whose eye you're trying to catch. If it's for Ed Farrell, we don't do T-shirts and jeans. But if it's for that nice manager over at the bank, well, we just might be able to-"

Mary Jane spoke so low it was hard to hear. "No. It's for tonight." She glanced briefly at Cassie, who was pretending to study the fine intricacies of shoulder pads. "I'm going with, um, Sam."

Aunt Lucinda nodded, a smile widening her reddened lips. "I know just the thing."

She walked to a wall of blouses and pulled out a low-cut silk tank top in flamingo red. Cassie watched as Mary Jane's eyes brightened. "I'll take it."

Lucinda fumbled with the hanger, trying to unhitch the shirt. "Don't you want to try it on?"

"I can't. I've got to get back to work. If it doesn't fit, I'll return it."

Cassie stepped away from the cash register to allow Lucinda to ring up the purchase.

As Mary Jane fumbled with the money in her wallet, she said, "I'm sorry about canceling lunch today. I just got swamped at the clinic. We'll do it another time, okay?"

"Sure." Cassie said good-bye, almost wanting to suggest a purchase of a long-sleeved blouse to wear over the "come hither" shirt. But she had thought better of it. It was none of her business.

The twins left amid busy feather bobbings and bell chimings, and Cassie settled down to work on the inventory list. She wouldn't give anybody the satisfaction of even thinking about what she was wearing that evening until she actually opened her closet door. Hopefully, she'd come down with the plague and wouldn't have to worry about it, anyway.

Ed pulled up in his mobile bordello precisely at five-thirty. He'd called at lunchtime to tell Cassie he wanted to get to the festival early to make sure he got first pickings at the food tables.

He blew the car horn outside, causing Aunt Lucinda to march out to the porch and insist he come to the front door. With grave apologies to Lucinda, his gaze flickered over Cassie's slim black Capri pants and emerald green linen crop top. He held the door open for her, and she could feel his gaze on the low V in the back of her blouse.

"That sure is some outfit, Cassie. You get that in New York?"

"Actually, I did. And thank you."

He opened her car door, then settled himself behind the wheel. "You're always dressed so nice. Like one of them models from those fashion magazines you see at Bitsy's House of Beauty. Maybe I need to go to New York, too, to learn how to dress."

He smiled at her, but she could tell he was waiting for her response, maybe even reassurance. She recalled the tall kid in the back row of her sixth-grade picture, and her heart went out to that friendless boy who still seemed to lurk beneath the surface of Ed Farrell.

"You know, looking at those pictures is a great way to learn what's new and what works with what. I mean, I'd even be happy to go shopping with you sometime, if you'd like."

His eyes lit, and he seemed to struggle for the right words, his eyebrows jerking up and down in seeming confusion. Finally, he started the engine, his face now a mask of studied concentration.

"Well, thanks. Maybe sometime. But clothes are pretty expensive. I mean, your outfit must have cost you a pretty penny. Bet your daddy sent you lots of money, huh?"

Cassie stared at his profile, wondering if he really expected an answer. He looked at her with raised eyebrows, showing her he did.

"Actually, no. He offered, but I didn't need it. I make a pretty decent living myself." Her hand reached up to touch the gold charm necklace around her throat.

He narrowed his eyes, producing a look that made it seem as if he didn't believe her, then turned his attention back to the road.

Cassie situated herself onto the seat, the leather sticking to her bare legs, and changed the subject. "Guess who called me today? Jim Roust himself, from Roust Development. Wanted to talk to me about my house."

Ed's eyes widened. "And what did you tell him?"

"That you were handling the property for me and that we had no immediate plans for anything other than to keep it residential. He kept pressing for a meeting, but I was pretty firm. I remembered what you told me about them, and I'd really rather have somebody local take care of this deal for me. I told him that, and he seemed pretty mad."

Ed nodded, redirecting an air-conditioning vent that was blowing on his hair. "Well, I certainly appreciate the business. I'm actually surprised it took Jim this long to call you. He or one of his people is usually out on your front porch before the For Sale sign is even in the ground. Did I tell you that your old neighbor is working for Roust now? That Richard Haney fellow-the one with the three hulking teenaged boys who are always up to something. After Haney sold his property, he decided to stick around and see what other kind of dam-age he could do to Walton. Like selling his house to Roust and creat-ing those three boys wasn't enough. Unbelievable."

Cassie shook her head. "I've known the Haneys all my life. I can't believe he's working with Roust. Maybe with the boys heading toward college he needed the money."

Ed shrugged, his eyes focused on the road ahead. They crunched over gravel, stirring up clouds of red dust as Ed maneuvered the car into a spot in the field behind the high school stadium. The sun lay low on the horizon, spilling yellow onto the grass like a giant cracked egg.

Thick, dark clouds mottled the sky off in the distance, hinting at foul weather to come. Cassie lifted the hair off the back of her neck, already sticky from the thick layer of humid air that seemed to congeal on everything and everyone during the late July days of a Walton summer.

A familiar truck pulled past them, kicking up a red dirt cloud. It drifted over their heads for a brief moment before collapsing and adhering to sweat-dampened skin.

Ed crossed his arms over his chest. "Well, well, well, if it ain't Walton's antiprogress police."

Sam stepped out of his truck, gave a brief nod in their direction, then opened the passenger door to help out Mary Jane. The red tank top skimmed over well-rounded breasts and was tucked into a pair of black linen walking shorts. She hadn't looked like that in high school, Cassie recalled, wondering where Mary Jane had stolen a copy of Cosmo. Then, standing close together but not touching, they approached Cassie and Ed.

The sky rumbled in the distance.

Sam smiled congenially. "Sure am glad to run into you. I was afraid we'd be the only people here over eighteen and under sixty."

Finding his expression contagious, Cassie smiled back. "There will be at least six of us. Harriet and Joe and their brood are already here. They didn't want to miss the parade. Even Maddie seemed pretty anxious to see it. Probably wanted to see if Lucy fell off and broke her nose."

Sam looked at his watch. "The midpoint of the parade is the town square. My guess is they'll be there in the next ten minutes or so. If we hurry, we'll see it."

Ignoring Sam, Ed pulled on Cassie's arm, leading her away in the opposite direction. "I'm gonna get me some of those fried dumplings first. We'll catch up."

Annoyed, Cassie pulled her arm back. "Come on, Ed. I don't want to miss the parade. I promise, as soon as it's over, we'll get you some-thing to eat." She sent him a smile he couldn't refuse, and he relented.

She wasn't sure why it was so important to her. It had been years since she'd seen a parade. The last time was the summer before her sophomore year in junior college, and she had gone to the Kudzu Festival with Joe. They'd held hands, their palms slick with sweat, and shared a cotton candy. He'd won her an enormous stuffed pink elephant by biting an apple out of a barrelful of water. His shirt had been soaked and plastered to his skin, giving Cassie the first stirrings of teenaged lust.

It had been just one of many shining moments of her girlhood, unmarred by all that had happened since. Their reminders decorated her bedroom in her father's house like a museum-the pennants, dried corsages, faded invitations. Even the pink elephant. Many times since her return, she had gone to her room with an empty garbage bag to clean it out, but she hadn't yet succeeded in removing one frayed streamer. The old Cassie might be gone, but she wasn't ready to be swept up, boxed away, and forgotten.

The four of them raced across the open field, past the stadium and through several backyards before coming up behind Town Hall. Cassie's shirt now clung to her skin with sweat, and she dared not think about what state her hair was in. She looked at Mary Jane and saw that her old friend had fared no better.

They spotted Knoxie's bright red hair right away. She was perched on her father's shoulders, her head a veritable beacon in the fading sunlight.

Mary Jane waved to catch their attention, and Harriet waved back. They pushed their way through the crowd as they made their way to Joe and Harriet. They had claimed a spot on the curb in front of the square-a perfect vantage point for the parade. Joey and Sarah Frances sat on the curb eating ice-cream cones, most of it dripping down their chins and forearms. Baby Amanda slept peacefully in her stroller, her lips pursed in a perfect bow. Cassie looked over at Madison, expecting her to be wearing a glum expression, but was surprised to see the young girl fairly bouncing with excitement.

Knoxie wore the remnants of her ice-cream cone on the front of her dress and her face, along with something that looked like congealed ketchup and mustard. When she spotted Sam, she stretched toward him. "Hold me, Dr. Parker!"

Heedless of the artistic arrangement of food on the child, he held out his arms, and the little girl fell into them.

His smile slowly dipped as he stared into Knoxie's face. "Are you feeling all right, peanut?"